


Desolation Row-verse: Complete Series

by missmollyetc



Series: Desolation Row [3]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Desolation Row, Compilation, Ereader Friendly, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmollyetc/pseuds/missmollyetc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All stories in my Desolation Row AU in one post to make it easier to download to an ereader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desolation Row-verse: Complete Series

The Competition's Won by missmollyetc

Summary: After the Concert, all Bob can feel is tired.

Someone asked me for a drabble featuring Bob/Frank in the Desolation Row universe, and I think it was [](http://belladonnalin.livejournal.com/profile)[**belladonnalin**](http://belladonnalin.livejournal.com/) but I'm not entirely sure. However! I've come up with this. Highly un-betaed, really soppy.

Disclaimer: Ray Toro, if you are reading this, you really shouldn't be. And neither should you, Pete.

Onstage, Frank whirls in a circle until he vomits into the crowd, swishes stale water in his mouth and spits it to the sky, laughing like a loon and Bob has to keep his eyes on his hands, pounding his sticks down on the toms until he can barely hear Gee screeching over the thrum. He hears the crowd scream, feels it in his bones, and strikes harder. Frank dances into his vision, kicking his way over to the amps, and Bob's eyes follow the curve of Frank's ass. The cops come when he's distracted.

In the paddy wagon, Frank giggles, throws himself against the wall separating the cab from the back, and falls to the ground in love with the blood dripping down his face, and Bob sighs, closes his eyes and leans his head on Mikey's bony shoulder. Ray mutters something from his corner, and Gee laughs. Mikey shushes them, but Bob can hear the grin in his voice. He remembers when he had adrenaline, too.

He's the only one with a real job--works night security at the junk yard outside of town--so he can afford the rent on the band's house. He's fucking tired, and the pigs knocked his whole set down on top of him. His stomach aches, his wrists throb in the handcuffs, he wants to go home. He doesn't even have the energy to _talk_ anymore, all the reserves he'd kept for the show evaporated as soon as the cops climbed off him and slapped the cuffs on his wrists.

They're shoved into the same cell at the station, and Bob stretches out on the floor with his head in Gee's lap. Gee's wonky fingers tug on his hair as they rub over Bob's scalp. He blinks heavily--can't fall asleep in jail--and watches Frank bouncing on the concrete floor, rehashing the concert with Ray and laughing. Can't fall asleep in jail...

He wakes up to Ray's hands on his shoulders, and Frank crowing in delight, calling Brian a motherfucker and a jewel in the same breath as he steps out of the cell into the corridor.

"You got our gear, right? Of course you did, you bastard," he says.

Brian smacks the top of Frank's head. "Get in the damn car, Iero."

Bob rolls to his feet with a groan, and Frank looks over his shoulder, frowning briefly. Bob waves his hand and follows the guys out of the station.

The sun's up by the time they get home and Brian follows Ray back to their room, Mikey to where Alicia's waiting for him, and Gerard to wait for Lyn in their own beds respectively. Bob wavers on his feet, looking out the back window to where the grass needs mowing, and Frank grabs his wrist.

"Come on, come on," Frank says under his breath, tugging Bob into their bedroom.

Bob grins, and follows. The blanket covering their window has fallen down on one side, and Frank groans, dropping Bob's wrist in favor of grabbing the broken end of the pool cue they keep by the sill. He pokes the blanket back into place, and turns around, waving the cue. Bob raises his hands to the sky.

Frank rolls his eyes. He drops the cue and steps up into Bob's space. "Did you fucking see that shit?" he demands.

Bob shrugs. Frank grins. "Yeah, you saw that shit," he says. "They fucking carried us out like _gods_."

Bob rolls his eyes. Frank sometimes doesn't see the world the way sane people do. He lets Frank manhandle him out of his jacket, kicks off his own shoes, and falls back on the bed when Frank pushes him. Frank leans over him, straddles his waist fully clothed, and puts his thumbs to the circles under Bob's eyes, tracing the discolored half-moons.

"You got work later?" he murmurs. Dried blood is beginning to flake above his mouth.

Bob nods, and Frank leans over his chest to kiss him goodnight. His shirt is stiff with sweat, and his breath tastes like ass. The stiff point of Frank's hair pokes him in the forehead, and Bob wrinkles his nose. He laughs, and puts his hands on Frank's hips. Frank hums into the kiss, sucking Bob's lower lip into his mouth and biting slightly. Bob tightens his hold, and lifts his hips off the bed. He feels the shape of Frank's mouth stretch into a grin.

"You fucking badass, Bryar," Frank says, pulling back an inch or so. "Now get under that damn blanket. I'm not fucking you for at least four more hours."

Bob laughs, but Frank moves off and Bob grumbles, but wrestles the covers off the bed and around himself. The pillows he stole from Macy's are fucking heaven underneath his head. He closes his eyes as Frank slips into bed with him. Frank's arm comes up over his waist and grips tightly. Bob falls asleep.

Thought of All The Things I'd Like to Say by missmollyetc

Summary: Just because he won't stop Ray, doesn't mean he never wants to.

He managed his jacket fine, but back in their room, Brian has to help Ray take his shirt off. Ray hisses as his head slips free, reddish hair popping out through the worn neck with a whirling bounce. There's a size eleven shoe print on his ribs and finger-marks up and down his arms. Some fucking pig took a shot at his nose and dried blood trails down on either side of his wide mouth. Brian grinds his teeth together and turns away, folding the shirt carefully and setting it down on top of their dresser.

Ray chuckles behind him. "You should have been there, man," he says. "I got so into it, I nearly busted my whole rig on that one dude's head."

Brian presses his hand flat on top of Ray's folded shirt. He blinks at the dark, sticky patch blooming out from beneath his fingers. His knuckles turn white. The tight knot in his stomach clenches. He takes a deep breath. Fucking…stupid fucking cops, fucking kids, fucking… _Ray_.

"The fuck, dude," he manages, "that's not in the damn budget. I don't bust my ass at the crap factory to pay your bail."

Ray laughs again, and Brian cracks his neck just to avoid shaking his boyfriend to pieces. You do not shake the person who gives you head, that's like, Dating 101.

"You need some ice for those ribs?" he asks, instead.

He turns around, and Ray's sitting down on their crappy mattress, springs groaning beneath him.

"Nah, do it tomorrow," he says. "Just…"

He grins, and ducks his head, letting his curls fall over his face. He giggles, and Brian can't help the grin that curls over his face. Ray and his stupid, fucking _laugh_. The knot in his stomach pulses, but Brian pushes through the feeling. He steps away from the dresser towards Ray.

"Just what?" he asks. "I already talked your pretty ass out jail tonight. I think maybe you owe me."

Ray tilts his head up, grinning. He plants his hands on his knees, the knuckles already scabbing over. His back is ramrod straight.

"Could you get my boots off for me?" he asks.

Brian rolls his eyes. "Jesus Christ," he mutters.

Their room's about the size of a closet, so Brian takes two steps and he's already on his knees at Ray's feet. He unbuckles the strap at the top of Ray's left boot, and starts picking at the double knot beneath. He glances up and Ray's grin has grown teeth.

"What?" he asks, warily.

Ray lifts one of his hands and cups Brian's jaw. He tugs and Brian rises up between Ray's knees. Ray's hair brushes against the side of his face as he leans forward.

"Thanks, man," he says.

Brian kisses him, bites into Ray's lower lip and sucks it into his mouth. Ray's moans, turns his head just that little bit to make it perfect, and Brian pushes forward. Ray opens his mouth, and it's good, warm and wet and just like Brian hadn't had to cut out the last hour of his job to get called a fag by Ray's arresting officer. He gets his hands around Ray's waist, soft and hot to the touch, and leans up further. He freezes when Ray breaks the kiss.

"Fuck," Ray says, putting a hand to his side.

Jesus, Brian hopes it's not a broken rib. That's just a bitch of paperwork. He sighs, and leans his forehead on Ray's shoulder. "How 'bout that ice?" he asks.

Ray smells like sweat and antiseptic, and a little like Drakkar Noir which is weird as fuck because Brian tossed all that shit out the day he moved in with the guy. Brian's gut lurches, and he kisses Ray's chest, maybe does it twice for good measure.

He feels Ray touch the nape of his neck, calluses scratching through the short hairs. "Nah," Ray says.

"Big man, huh?" Brian mutters.

"You know it, baby," Ray says.

Brian snorts, rocking back on his heels. "Oh, fuck off."

Ray shrugs, and then winces, grinning. "What can I say? You're here, I'm here, there's a bed. A guy gets ideas. You know, since you're down there and all…" Ray licks his lips, and dried blood flakes off at the corners.

Brian glances down at Ray's crotch, and shakes his head.

"Ray Toro, you fucking freak," he says.

Ray laughs and reaches for him again. The knot in Brian's stomach turns over. He reaches back anyway.


End file.
